And that was how it started.
Wednesday night, I’d texted him photos of the sushi choices I was mulling over at the grocery store. Just because. He’d called immediately to give me his rather strong opinions. In a twist, Asher was a sushi freak. He loved spicy tuna and California rolls the most, but the ratio of rice to each ingredient was extremely important. Somehow, I’d found myself FaceTiming with him, grinning like an idiot while he oohed and aahed over the selection.
Last night, he’d sent me a math joke. A bad one.
Why doesn’t anyone talk to a circle? Because it has no point.
I’d laughed, then called him right away to give him proper punchline etiquette.
“It’s not ‘it has no point,’ ” I’d said. “It’s ‘there’s no point.’ Big difference. And you’re supposed to give me a chance to come up with the answer.”
“Oh. Okay. How was your day?”
I’d sat at the kitchen island, propped my feet on the barstool next to me, and smiled. I have no idea what I reported. My day was fine. The only thing out of the ordinary was trying to keep a straight face while interrogating Mickey Reyes, who was accused of setting off a stink bomb in the boys’ bathroom. It was so bad that the janitor cordoned off the area, and the anatomy class was forced to meet in another classroom.
“I can’t believe I held it together. I sounded like such an adult too. I kind of shocked myself,” I’d admitted.
Asher hadn’t laughed. In fact, it had taken him a few seconds to compute what I was saying. “Was this an actual body function gone awry, or did he manufacture a horrible scent on purpose?”
I’d almost fallen off my barstool. No kidding. I’d swiped tears from my eyes and cackled like a loon. “It was manufactured, Ash. A joke that, sadly, administration didn’t find as amusing as Mickey did. Or me.”
“Boys are gross, aren’t they?” Asher deadpanned.
I’d chuckled again and this time he joined, laughing along with me like an old friend.
Except we were new friends with a secret mission. Like explorers or something…with boundaries.
Not gonna lie, I wanted him. Badly. And if there was a chance he was interested in getting naked, I was all for it. But I enjoyed talking to him too. These silly conversations about everything and nothing felt so…honest.
So, here I was on a Friday night, freshly showered, in bed with my cell in my hand, wondering if it was too late to text the guy I’d been thinking about nonstop all week long.
Eh, fuck it.
I typed a quick message, read it twice, and pressed Send. Think about what you want to build. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Ash responded immediately. What are my choices?
Anything. Just think of a craft that involves tools. It’ll be fun.
Right. Sports and tools. Fun, he replied.
I sense text sarcasm, but don’t worry, we’ll make it fun.
Three dots danced across the screen, then stopped. He was either writing an essay or he was done for the night. And why did this matter so much to me? I set my cell on my nightstand, turned off my bedside lamp, and pulled my duvet over me. Light from my phone illuminated my room before I closed my eyes.
Our ideas of mirth and merriment are not the same.
And just like that, I was wide awake. Oh, yeah? What’s your idea of fun?
Museums, observatories, libraries, bookstores…
I propped my pillow against my headboard, grinning as I typed, What about skiing, bungee jumping, skydiving, and rock-climbing?
I could almost see his face as he considered his response. I’d bet his lips were pursed and his forehead was creased. No doubt he knew I was yanking his chain, but I’d bet he was a little worried that I was serious.
And that right there was why I liked this guy. Asher’s genius contrasted sweetly with his unconscious naïveté when it came to activities and pursuits he had no real interest in.
Somewhere in that middle ground, we communicated. I could be an expert and he could relax. Neither of us had anything to prove. I couldn’t speak for Ash, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been one hundred percent myself without worrying about consequences.
Whatever this was, it felt like a step in the right direction.
6
Asher
“Where are you going?”
I whirled around with my hand over my chest, blinking like an owl. A guilty one. “Uh…I have errands to run,” I practically yelled.
George widened his eyes as he moved past me to the coffee machine. “Are you okay? You seem frazzled. And you’ve been muttering to yourself for a good minute or two.”
“What? Me?” I bluffed. “What did I say?”
“Something about checking your list and looking up a school color.” George poured coffee into his mug, then leaned against the counter, observing me over the rim.